Each Little Bird
couldn't it be a choir shouldn't it be some kind of classic symphony in the woods and on the wire sound waves bouncing back and forth in sympathy but in this crowded closet, and outside in that clearing harmony is not the word for whatever i'm hearing no wonder it's so hard for them to get along each little bird with its own damn song tweet tweet tweet, whistle whistle whistle, caw caw caw each little bird with its own damn song shouldn't there be a channel everyone's tuned into like some bright north star or perhaps a panel making joint decisions 'bout the repertoire just watch a monster birthing, just watch a human being harmony is not the word for whatever we're seeing some they cry, some they hum and some they sing so strong each little bird with its own damn song each little bird with its own damn song the headlines shortly, the crime, the courts the feel good story, the dow, now sports and finally the forecast in lieu of a full frontal lobotomy guess we both had better find the grace notes caught in the cacaphony could be that grandpa's growing could be that toddler's teething harmony can't be the only reason for breathing maybe each bird in flight was alright all along each little bird with its own grand song cuckoo kee, whistle whistle whistle, i was wrong each little bird with its own sweet song